Review: Disolvo Animus - Aphesis (Metal as Fuck)

Disolvo Animus are like a Hellenic answer to Behemoth and Dimmu Borgir. Funny thing is, we never really asked that question in the first place.

Heavy metal is forever. Period. But that's not to say we get bored with ourselves from time to time. Power metal seems naff until Blind Guardian releases a blinding record every few years or so. We largely ignore traditional NWOBHM until Iron Maiden drops some old school chops on us. We release a certain Norwegian neo-Nazi out of prison for arson and murder and people go apeshit with some kind of blind veneration for him. Disolvos Animus aren't bored with the spent-by-then late-90s second wave of black metal, even though the majority of metalheads are (save for one or two bands) and seem rather proud of that.

Read more at Metal As Fuck.

Interview: Murder in the Front Row: a visual journey through the Bay Area thrash scene (Metal as Fuck)

Crushtor chats to Brian Lew, co-author of a new book that captures the rivet-headed zeitgeist of the 80s San Francisco Bay Area thrash scene.

The San Francisco Bay Area thrash metal scene of the 80s – the same soil from which Metallica, Slayer and Megadeth grew is imbued with a certain drunken reverence. Hazily remembered details lend themselves to pages upon pages of ghostwritten annals by riff-weathered guitarists and frontmen. What remains are oft exaggerated tales of destitution, rose-tinted and booze drenched memoirs of a heady and volatile time in American heavy metal. One medium once told no lies to the face of rumors and fabrications; the humble photograph.

Read more at Metal as Fuck.

Interview: Nile - [Insert Totally Overdone Egypto-Matic Pun Here] (Hysteria Magazine)

Hysteria upstart Tom Valcanis was watching that crappy Brendan Fraser movie for some reason when, all of a goddamn sudden, the phone rang. It was NILE'S own riddle of the riffalicious sphinx, Karl Sanders. His last name has ‘sand’ in it, too. We just noticed that, it works really well.    

Nile's reverend-blonde front beast throws down a challenge to me as soon as I pick up the phone.“I get fucking fed up with talking about myself,” Karl Sanders says in a lackadaisical Southern Carolinian drawl, his wiry voice betraying nothing of the beast he usually lets fly from his throat. “Wherever you take the conversation is fine by me.”

Challenge accepted.

Read how I rose to the challenge here.